


The Boy From Building 122

by kaidenkaitoking



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Korean Keith (Voltron), M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Samoan Hunk (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-02-22 12:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13166799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaidenkaitoking/pseuds/kaidenkaitoking
Summary: Things are changing.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meraki_fics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraki_fics/gifts).



> Hi guys! I wanted to get this down somewhere other than word so I could have it when I don't have this computer! I love Voltron and Klance so I really hope you guys like this! Thanks! Also, this is a gift to one of my favorite cosplayers and idols, Jay. So thanks, Jay!

Lance sat in the courtyard, swinging his legs back and forth in the snow, making tiny tracks. “Friday’s” lie across the road, and he sat from afar, idolizing and admiring the boy inside the building as he glided between tables. He was picking up and dropping off food and empty plates. It was something he could understand, as he did it every day as well in his own little shop across the city.

His fluffy kitty sat on his left leg, purring in his jacket with the warmth. She nudged at his left hand, his dominant hand, and fell asleep on his lap. He sighed at her, picking her up and making the trek back home. It wasn’t a long walk, but as he was walking from the courtyard, he caught sight of the boy inside “Friday’s”. The lights on the ceilings hung low, and lit up his eyes and face beautifully.

Unfortunately, he was caught in his staring, and the boy inside caught his eyes, gave him a kind smile, and waved at him. Lance felt his cheeks heat up, and he started booking it back for his tiny flat on the outskirts of the city.

Any tree planted on the roads and streets was drowned in lights of all colors, including red, blue, green, yellow, and even white. The grounds, walkways, and streets had a light dusting of snow lying on top of them, and the mush crunched under Lance’s feet as he walked. His nose and cheeks were pink from the chill in the air, and his fingers were freezing as he held the kitten in one hand, and his cane in the other.

Finally, the boy returned to his shared flat, limping up the stairs and leaving his cane at the door. He placed the kitten at the base of the door and leaned heavily on his right foot as he tried to stay stable enough to unlock the door. Finally, after twiddling with at least five different keys, the door swung open as he was about to try another. His house mate, a boy about the same age as him, stood in the doorway, and pulled him in as he noticed the discoloration in Lance’s face. “Gawd, are you insane?! Do you want to freeze? Label your house key, dummy!” the boy shrieked, helping Lance limp into their living area.

The cat and Lance plopped onto the love seat, and the other brought them soup that had been steaming over the stove for about an hour. “Looks delicious. Thank you, Hunk,” Lance exclaimed, beginning to devour it as soon as it had been set in front of him.

Hunk sent the other a smile before pulling up a stool and moving a couple of things off of the coffee table. He called out a name, “Pidge”, and then left the room. A small child bounded into the room, holding their phone in one hand and a screw in the other.

“Hello Lance. How was your outing with Blue?” Pidge asked him, motion at Blue the cat when she was mentioned.

Lance shrugged, bringing a hand up to feed himself and then pet the soft fur of his kitten’s back. “Okay, I guess. The boy at Friday’s saw me today.”

His prosthetic was bothering him, Pidge noticed. They asked if Lance could lift his left leg up onto the stool so Pidge could have a look, and Lance obeyed. The skin where the prosthetic was attached seemed red and irritated, and Lance looked uncomfortable as Pidge ran their fingers over the area.

Lance couldn’t remember a time when he had the bottom half of his left leg. It had been missing for as long as he could remember. In fact, he couldn’t even remember how he lost it, half the time. Hunk would tell the story countless times to people who asked why “the boy from building one twenty-two has no leg”. It was something Lance heard everyone say as he walked through the streets every day. He was used to at that point.

Pidge looked at the prosthesis, adjusting a couple of screws and bolts until Lance told them that it felt better. The child left Lance on his own then, allowing him to finish his soup in peace and quiet. He never really was one for commotion.

The boy from building one twenty-two seemed like something out of a dream, to the boy from “Friday’s”, at least.

His shift had ended, at most, ten to twenty minutes after Lance had left, and though he gave a smile and a polite wave, the boy was absolutely run down. He knew for a fact his brother wouldn’t be happy with how exhausted he was when he got home.

Instead of taking a car or walking to building one twenty-three, the boy from “Friday’s” took the bus home. He waited on the corner in the snow next to a woman, a woman with beautiful silvery hair, and she gave him a smile as he sat down. “Goodness, you look worse than I do,” she chuckled at him. The boy gave a tired chortle in response.

The kind woman and the boy seemed to be getting on the same bus, but when it got there, they took a seat in different places.

So the boy sat alone on the bus, looking out the window at the snow as it fell rather familiarly on the benches, trees, and building tops. The lights on the trees enchanted him, and he found himself staring at the lights as they all rushed past, all too quickly.

As the bus approached his building his stomach twisted inside of him. He was nervous. Then, as he was getting off the bus, he saw the cane of the boy from the courtyard sitting against building one twenty-two.

The door crashed open as he unlocked it, the wind shoving it in and nearly tearing it off the hinges. “Shiro?” the boy called, stepping in and closing the wooden door behind him.

Shiro stepped down the stairs, glaring at the other in the doorway. “I tell you to get some sleep and what do you do? Go in for work at four in the freaking morning, that’s what! Keith!” There was a yell of the boy from “Friday’s” name as he walked into the kitchen, away from his big brother, to throw some chicken nuggets into the toaster oven.

Keith shuddered uncomfortably as his big brother wrapped his arms around him in a backwards hug. “You’re disgusting Shiro.”

“I’m disgusting and proud.”

“Nerd.”

“Mullet.”

“Is there coffee made?”

Shiro reached across the counter and slid Keith a red mug full of the drink. There was whipped cream on the top, and a drizzle of something tan-ish, caramel perhaps. It seemed likely. Keith brought the cup to his lips, and took a long and rewarding sip.

He hadn’t slept in three days, hadn’t showered in two, and hadn’t had any human interaction since the day before. Secretly, he loved the hug he was wrapped in at the moment.

At the end of the night, Shiro and Keith tuckered into their shared master bed. Keith shivered from the cold, and Shiro brought him closer. “I saw the boy from one twenty-two outside the restaurant today,” he muttered under his breath, letting out a tiny sneeze. Shiro just smiled against Keith’s unusually warm forehead, and both fell into a deep sleep that Keith had been craving since Monday.

The morning was awful. Both Lance and Keith were up super early, at about three in the morning, to open the shops they worked at. Lance, however, had been moved into the location closer to the city for the day, and it seemed like that location was placed directly next to “Friday’s”. He dreaded the day ahead. Lance would be working seventeen hours that day on his own, from six to eleven, and with his loss of a left leg, he knew it wouldn’t go well. Keith only had to work an eight-hour shift, from six to two in the afternoon, just until they stopped serving lunch.

Perhaps he would stop by “V’s Teas and Coffees” on his lunch break and say hello to the boy from building one twenty-two with no left leg.

He wouldn’t be getting a lunch break. Lance knew that for a fact. He was absolutely dreading the day. By the time the first hour was through, Lance had coffee grounds in his hair, a mix of coffee and tea drenching his apron, and tear tracks down his freezing cold cheeks. The heating was broken, and Lance was shivering through his olive green hoodie, sweater, shirt, and apron. His nose and cheeks were once again pink, and the prosthesis was bothering him something fierce. He wasn’t sure he could handle this for another sixteen hours.

Another twenty minutes later, Lance couldn’t stand what he was going through, and picked up his nearly dead phone to call Hunk. He needed help.

Hunk arrived at the tiny shop less than five minutes later, ready with his small chef hat on a headband and his hands shaking as he was excited to get into working with the drinks. He had managed to bring Lance’s wheelchair, and insisted that he wheel around and hand out drinks while Hunk worked on register and making drinks.

On his lunch break, Lance nearly punched Hunk as the burlier boy called Pidge to come examine Lance’s leg.

Five minutes later, Lance’s leg propped up on a couch while no one else was in the shop and he was actually relaxing quietly, Hunk counting money, the boy from “Friday’s” entered “V’s Teas and Coffees”.

Keith’s morning hadn’t gone too well up until his lunch break at eleven in the morning. Actually, it had gone the opposite of well. He was drenched in sweat, but was shivering. He was pretty sure he was ill, but there was no backing out of his shift. The restaurant needed him, as Fridays at “Friday’s” were always hectic.

He’d come into work without eating that morning, and his boss, Ulaz, had made him sit down and eat a waffle from the kitchen before he could get to work. He worked on cleaning tables, cleaning dished, picking up dirty dishes, and dropping off food to customers. He hadn’t gotten a break all morning, running into the kitchen and into the main room and back and forth all morning.

He was relieved when Ulaz told him to get out for his lunch break.

He was craving coffee. He may or may not have also been craving to see the boy from building one twenty-two.

Their eyes met as Keith walked in, and Lance felt his cheeks heat up as the flushed and sweaty other stood in the doorway to the shop. Hunk, at the counter and oblivious to the connection happening between his friend and Keith, called out at Keith, “Hi! Welcome to V’s Teas and Coffees. What can I get ya?”

Keith brought his attention back to reality and stepped up to the counter where Hunk stood. “Uh, small caramel latte, please,” he replied stupidly, handing Hunk a ten. The burly boy gave Keith his change back and promised his drink would be done soon.

Lance felt mortified. The boy he’d been crushing on for months walked into his shop, and the first thing he sees is his admirer’s helpless body lying across a couch and unable to move without screaming.

While Keith waited, he decided to go and talk to Lance. He took a seat on a small stool across from the other and shivered, stifling a sneeze into the elbow of his white and red leather jacket. “Uh, hi. My name’s Keith. If you don’t mind me asking- “

“Ask away. I answer every day.” Lance cut him off, sending him a tired smile. Keith smiled in return and continued what he was going to say.

“How did you lose your leg?”

On the rare occasion Lance remembered, he didn’t like telling the story. This was Keith, though. He had to tell.

So, he began his tale.

Many, many years ago, Lance had been running around with his brothers, sisters, and cousins. He was about four, maybe five, at the time, and had a smile on his face as his laughs were drowned in other laughs from his family. He was playing tag, or maybe it was just to chase each other around for no reason. He’d ran into something and didn’t even notice until the grill his father was using fell on top of him, and a knife sliced rather deeply into little Lance’s leg. Unfortunately, doctor’s had discovered that the torn and damaged tissue would never repair on its own, and they had to amputate the bottom of Lance’s leg for him to be able to be sort of normal.

It was the story of Lance’s life. He told it every day, or had Hunk tell it every day, and he knew all too well the normal responses from people.

Keith’s response was different, though. He reached for Lance’s hands, held the, in his own, and whispered to him, “You are strong, and I’m proud of you.” Lance was destroyed inside. He felt weak, and a bit faint, just from Keith holding his hands.

When Hunk brought over Keith’s drink, the mullet boy let go of the legless boy’s hands and took the latte. He brought it to his lips and took a warm sip. He let out a happy sigh and then stood. “I have to go now. Bye Hunk. I’ll see you later, Lance,” Keith called as he walked out the front door.

Lance sat on the couch, still with his leg propped up, and as Pidge walked through the front door, he nearly fainted.

The boys from building one two two and one two three were like night and day, and the two were very contradicting in terms of personality.

Keith’s shift ended with him saying goodbye to Ulaz, grabbing an apple from the kitchen, and making his way over to V’s. Hunk seemed to have left, and Lance looked like he was running around like a headless chicken. Understandable, because that’s how he felt.

After Hunk left and Pidge adjusted his prosthetic, Lance had been on his own and drowning in customers. The amount of customers seemed to have increased from that morning to that afternoon.

A smirk lied on Keith’s face, and he ducked behind the counter, standing with Lance at the register. Out of the true bleariness he felt, Lance didn’t even notice, and looked about ready to fall over and pass out. “Hi. Welcome to V’s Teas and Coffees. What can I get you?” It was after Keith spoke that Lance noticed he was even there. Keith, seeing Lance’s sudden panic, smiled and took the person’s order.

After Keith took the order, he excused himself and Lance into the back, saying they needed more coffee grounds. As soon as they were in the back room, Lance started yelling at the boy from “Friday’s”.

“I don’t need your help! I can take care of myself! IT’S JUST THAT SOMETIMES I FORGET TO EAT AND FORGET TO SLEEP AND FORGET TO SHOWER AND FORGET TO LOCK THE SHOP AND FORGET HOW LONG MY SHIFTS ARE AND EVEN FORGET THAT I DON’T HAVE A STUPID LEFT LEG!” Lance cried, beginning to sob carefully into the extended sleeves of his hoodie. He was just absolutely breaking down, right in front of his crush. He felt humiliated.

Keith felt out of place all the sudden, but he didn’t even bother feeling that, as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around a broken Lance. He heard the other boy’s breathing hitch, both of them shuddered in the cold of the shop. “You don’t have to worry,” was all he said, before he began to hum in Lance’s ear to calm him down the best he could.

The shaking of the legless boy eventually stopped, and all that was left was just quiet and small sobs.

At six, Lance took a break.

At seven, Keith left to get them dinner.

At eight, Lance finished his dinner.

At nine, Lance was tired.

At ten, Keith called Shiro to tell him he would be home a bit…late.

At eleven, finally, the coffee shop closed, and Keith invited Lance to ride the bus with him. Considering the recent pains from his prosthetic, he obliged and allowed Keith to pay for a bus ticket for him.

There the two sat, in the very back of the bus. Lance was asleep, his head accidentally falling on Keith’s shoulder. Keith, however, was awake, and became interested in Lance. There were hard bumps under his jeans and, he could imagine that that was wear the prosthesis was connected to Lance’s thigh. He wondered. He’d seen Shiro’s prosthetic before, but seeing Lance’s on his lunch break was like a new awakening. It was like letting a child into a candy store as a child, and then bringing them back in their early adult years.

It was like nostalgia.

Finally, the bus stopped at building one hundred, twenty-two and twenty-three buildings away from Lance and Keith’s flats. They stared at each other in the freezing cold, gazing into each other’s eyes in the moonlight. “Do you need some help back to your flat?”

Although the question had already embarrassed Lance enough, he gave a tiny nod. He didn’t know what he was in for.

Keith swung his arms under Lance’s legs, the other supporting his back, and swept him off his feet so that he was holding him bridal style. From building one hundred to building one twenty-two, Keith carried Lance, and set him carefully at the door of his building after he knocked.

Waiting for the door to open, Keith and Lance still stared at each other. Keith set Lance down, gave him a tiny peck of a kiss on the cheek, and scurried, embarrassedly, away to his flat.


	2. Part II

Christmas morning. It was a time that most people spent with their families and friends.

Lance was alone. Pidge had gone out of town to see their family, and Hunk had too, going to Samoa to go see family as well. So, Lance was alone in their small flat, leaving the house in the morning to work, and coming home late. Since he had nothing to do at the house, he just picked up extra shifts at the shop. Blue came and went with him to the shop, and she hung around at home.

So, Christmas morning, Lance awoke to his alarm blaring in his ear, ready to go open the coffee shop. However, just as he was done with his very quick and very cold shower, just pulling on his hoodie, there was a quiet knock on the front door. He limped into the living room, still not having his prosthetic on and only having on his boxers and hoodie, and looked through the peephole.

Keith stood on his front porch, a wrapped box in his arms, and a leash in his right hand. Lance couldn’t tell what the leash was connected to.

Overwhelmed with sudden panic, Lance fell backwards on his one working leg, hyperventilating a bit. “Lance? Are you alright in there?” He could hear Keith on the other side of the door and it made him even more panicked.

Lance sat up, crawling over to the door and unlocking it before using his cane, sitting at the front door, to push himself off the ground.

“It’s open,” he called through the door, struggling a bit to pick himself back up. Keith pulled the door open and saw Lance struggling.

Would it have been awkward if he helped him? He was only in his underwear and sweater. “Lance? Would you like some help?” Keith asked him, taking a step forward. Lance shook his head, and Keith closed the door behind him.

Lance finally steadied himself and invited Keith into the living room. There was a streak of grey down the hall. It was Blue, coming down the hall to sniff the other kitten in the house. That’s when Lance realized that, on the end of Keith’s leash, was a dark tabby cat. “I see your kitten found Red. Uh, here, by the way,” Keith told Lance, handing the box over to him.

Curious, Lance opened the box, tearing at the paper with great care as so not to destroy it.

There, in the box, was a card and a kitten stuffed animal. It wasn’t too big, but it meant a lot to Lance coming from the boy that he’d been admiring over for weeks. “Thank you, Keith…But I have to go into work today. The shop will be overloading with people!”

“Well, then, I’ll go in with you. My brother, Shiro, went out of town so I’m on my own for Christmas. So, uh, Merry Christmas, Lance.” Keith’s cheeks were pink as he spoke with immense nerves. His hands shook.  
The shop opened, and Keith was suddenly relieved he had the day off to help Lance around. His shift was short that day, from six in the morning to midday.

Just like expected, people were in and out the whole day, and Keith and Lance could barely even take a break. Finally, around twelve in the afternoon, the shop fell quiet, and Lance was lying on the floor, panting after running around for the last six hours, non-stop, like a headless chicken. “Keith, bottom drawer, on your left, screwdriver,” Lance called at Keith from the floor. The darker haired lad reached into the cabinet and got the tool for Lance, handing it off to him.

Lance pushed himself to sit up, reaching down to his prosthetic and tampering with it a bit before carefully rising to his foot and prosthesis. “Lance, how often do you do that?”

“Pretty often. Wanna get lunch?”

Keith gave a smile and a nod, but instead of walking with Lance, he picked him up bridal style once more, and walked out of the shop into the brisk, cold air. The cold nipped at Lance’s and Keith’s noses, pulling a sneeze from Keith’s diaphragm. The highpoints of Lance’s face were turning red, and he pushed his face into the open part of Keith’s rider jacket. “Cold?” Keith asked him, giggling.

Lance smiled in Keith’s chest. He may or may not have fallen asleep, because when he woke up, he was shivering something terrible, and Keith was just unlocking the door to a building. “K-Keith? Wh-Where are we?”  
“It’s my mom’s property. It used to be a restaurant, and she lets me use it. So, I thought I could show you and we could get to know each other. At the moment, all I know about you is your first name and that you’ve been staring at me for the past couple of weeks.” Lance felt his face go hot and red, and he whined. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s okay. I think you’re cute, too.”

The kitchen was small when he and Keith entered, and there were sweet smelling things everywhere. Keith noticed Lance’s eyes widen, and the drool starting to drip from his lips. He internally cooed at the boy in his arms. “Hey, I know what that is!” Lance exclaimed, hopping off carefully from Keith’s arms and travelling over to a container sitting on the counter. It was piloncillo, a Spanish sugar that Lance had been around and eating for the majority of his eighteen-year life.

Keith smiled and went over and picked up the jar. “Yeah. I use it to make coffee and crepes. It’s really good. I’m guessing you’re Spanish, then?”

“Cuban, specifically. My dad used to make things with this. Me and my siblings devoured whatever contained it! It was always, like, the best thing ever,” Lance told him, smiling with a child-like innocent in his eyes.  
For the next couple of hours, Keith strung himself around the kitchen, making what seemed to be a Christmas dinner, in Lance’s eyes. However, Lance promised Keith he wouldn’t look. Keith wanted it to be special.  
The whole time that Keith cooked, he couldn’t get Lance’s adorable smile out of his mind. They’d only just met the week before, but it seemed like Keith couldn’t seem to get away from the fact that Lance was someone he wanted to keep around and to protect for the rest of his life. Maybe it was the way that he walked with the prosthetic, the way he persisted when Keith could tell it was hurting while he worked. Or maybe it was just Lance. Maybe it was the way he rushed around when he was stressed. Or how he bit his lip when he was nervous.

Maybe it was the way he pushed his face into Keith’s chest because he was cold…on instinct…

Keith pushed that thought away. He was getting hopeful, just like always. Most of the time, his hopefulness ended in something bad happening or something going wrong. He kept his expectations rather low so that if anything went wrong, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Probably a bit of pain, but definitely nothing compared to the feeling of being let down. Keith knew that feeling a little too well, and he never wanted to feel it, or at least, he wanted to feel it as little as possible. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world, imaginably.

The chicken he was working on smelled fantastic, the scent wafting through the kitchen. There were mashed potatoes in one pot, corn in another. There was a cake in the oven. Though Keith had chaos going on in the kitchen, he managed to keep it clean. There was no mess at all. He had all the dishes he was going to use lied out perfectly, and he knew exactly what each and every tool, plate, and utensil would be used for, and the order in which he would wash each one after using it.

Lance whined from the room outside of the kitchen, rolling over. “Keith! I’m bored!” he cried out, and Keith just smiled. Keith left the kitchen finally, handing Lance his phone. He was wearing a rather clean apron for being in the kitchen for so long.

“There’s games and stuff on it, or you can just watch videos or something,” Keith told him, smiling, and then disappearing into the kitchen again. Lance looked at the case on the phone. It was red, as expected from Keith, but there was a flower of jewels on it in the corner, and a little cat bubble sticker on it as well. Keith’s phone case…was adorable.  
The sun was beginning to set, and Lance was starting to get a bit bored, but then, the door to the kitchen busted open, and Keith emerged with a cart. Earlier, he’d set up a large table with a table cloth, silverware, plates, and cups for the two of them. Keith set up the table, serving himself and Lance a bit of everything, except the cake, which they would eat after Keith gave Lance the rest of the gifts he’d gotten for him.

After sitting down, Lance actually considered taking off his prosthetic for comfort. So, very carefully, he reached down, pulled up his jeans, and gently disconnected and unhinged the prosthesis from his thigh and knee. Keith watched in awe for a moment, then suddenly feeling bad that he was staring. “Strange, isn’t it? Don’t worry. You can watch if you want.” Keith drew his eyes slowly back to the prosthetic.

Keith watched at Lance carefully placed the prosthetic on the floor, and smiled at him. “You’ve really grown accustomed to that haven’t you?” Lance nodded at the question, his ear ringing. “Tell me about yourself, Lance. I don’t know that much about you.”

Lance took a deep breath and then started talking. “My name is Lance McClain and I’m an amputee, obviously. I’ve been legless for about thirteen years now. I’m eighteen years old and I work by myself with another woman at the coffee shop “V’s Teas and Coffee”. Her name’s Allura. She’s my age too. All of my siblings and family live in Cuba, but I moved here with my best friend, Hunk. I have a personal doctor, and they’re non-binary. Their name’s Pidge, and they’re pretty great. Hunk and Pidge went out of town, Hunk to Samoa, and Pidge to Italy. So, I’ve been alone for the past couple of days. Uh, I didn’t have enough money to fly out to Cuba for the break, and my leg’s been bothering me recently so I didn’t want anything to happen.”

Lance thought for a moment. Would it have been more reasonable to go to Cuba? Perhaps, but at the moment, he was spending time with the one person he’d been in love with since the moment they locked eyes for the first time. “Tell me about you, then, Keith.”

Keith thoughts drifted back into his history, which, in truth, wasn’t all too exciting. “Well, to tell you the truth, it’s not too interesting but I’ll see what I can do. Uh, well, I’m an orphan, kind of. When I was seventeen, my foster family adopted an older boy from Japan, my older brother Takashi Shirogane. We clicked instantly, He’s got a prosthetic too, only it’s the bottom half of his right arm. I have one small cat. Her name is Red. I…I don’t have any friends. I mean, I have you now, but growing up, my parent’s left when I was six, maybe, so people never wanted to make friends with the orphan. I’m nineteen years old, I work at ‘Friday’s’ down the street, and my name is Keith Kogane. Originally, it was something that I can’t remember, but it changed when I was adopted by my foster family. Shiro’s last name was changed, too, to Shirogane. He can’t remember what it used to be, either. Uh, I’m from Korea, originally, and I think that’s pretty much it. I’m not all that exciting,” he told Lance. He seemed to be rambling, and he only breathed once or twice during his entire explanation.  
Maybe it was good that Lance asked. Maybe it was good for Keith to get that off his chest to someone. Maybe he’d never had anyone else to tell these things to. Maybe…maybe Lance was the right person to hear all of Keith’s troubles.

Maybe Keith knew that.

There had been an instant connection when they met. It was strange. Perhaps Keith just felt pity for Lance. After Keith’s explanation, maybe Lance felt pity for Keith. Maybe they felt pity for each other. However, it was unlikely. There was something that Keith saw in Lance, something that he loved, and something he wanted to protect for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure what it was. Whatever it was, Keith craved it. He wanted it all. He wanted Lance.

“Lance, may I ask you something?” Was he really about to do this?  
.  
.  
.  
Heck yeah.

Lance looked at Keith, smiled cutely, and nodded. Keith’s face flushed a deep red, and he held out his hand for Lance to take. “Would you like to go out with me sometime?”  
Lance was in shock. How was he supposed to respond? A “yes” would have sufficed, but Lance couldn’t find himself able to find words in the panic and nerves of the moment.

So, the two boys sat in the old abandoned building, quiet.

Keith was nervous. Why hadn’t he answered yet?

Lance was nervous. Why couldn’t he answer yet?

“Keith?”

“Yes Lance?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Keith nearly fell over. It was Monday, so he could find a time to go out with Lance maybe Friday night. “How’s Friday? We could make dinner at my place and then go see a movie, maybe? Or whatever you want to do?” Lance just laughed, took Keith’s left hand in his right, and continued to eat like that. He felt at ease, at peace.

He liked it.

It was supposed to be lunch, but it had turned into dinner by the time that Keith had finished, and by seven at night, Lance and Keith were both draped across Keith’s bed in building one twenty-three, Lance snoring softly on Keith’s left arm, drooling ever so softly. Keith watched intently, watching Lance’s breathing become a bit uneasy, his chest rising and falling in a nearly steady motion.

After a short bit of time watching him, Keith pulled Lance’s body a bit closer to his own, and he felt secure. He felt at peace, just like Lance had a bit earlier. The darkness of night was slowly falling over Keith’s building, and a sort of tired and cozy atmosphere falling over everything in Keith’s vicinity. He felt comfortable.

Lance’s breathing sped up a small bit, and Keith was suddenly aware that the rest of his gifts for Lance were still in his closet, waiting to be opened. Keith carefully moved out from under Lance, replacing his firm chest with a memory foam pillow that his brother used for his arm. It seemed to suffice for Lance, because he barely moved a muscle when Keith left his presence.

Keith crept down the hallway quietly, finding the closet and turning on the dull hallway light. He turned the knob for the closet, and it creaked softly, then pulled the door open. There was a soft mumble of Keith’s name from his bed where Lance lied, and he noted to hurry up. He grabbed the rest of the gifts he’d gotten him and stumbled back into the bedroom with them piled up in his arms. They wobbled, and he almost lost the top one at least five times.

He set them down on the floor in the bedroom, then stepped over to wake the adorably sleeping Lance. He shook him gently, but he didn’t budge. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to Lance’s head, and grabbed his hands in his own. He squeezed Lance’s hands softly, watching as his eyes twitched slightly. “Lance? Hey, wake up, I got something for you,” Keith tried, but Lance just moaned and rolled over, curling in on himself as if he were freezing. “I’ll turn up the heat if you’re cold, Lance. Wake up, though. I’ve got things for you,” Keith told him, then left the room to turn up the heat in the house.

Lance rose slowly from the dent in the bed he’d made, rubbing at his eyes and running his fingers through his hair a couple of times to tame it down a bit. His eyes met the mountain of wrapped gifts on the floor, and shook his head a little.

Keith stepped back into the room and sat behind Lance on the bed. “When I was a little kid, I used to keep journals of stories that I wrote, things that I drew, and little diary entries. So, I was cleaning the other day, and I found them all. I thought you might like them. I also found a few empty journals that I have no purpose for so those are in there as well.” There were at least ten boxes on the floor in front of the bed, and all of them were filled with journals. “There’s also a box with some things I made for you,” and Keith motioned over at his crotchet set in the corner on his desk.

Lance just smiled, turned around, and hugged Keith. “Give me that box first. I’ll look through the journals on my own time.” Keith stepped over and picked up the smallest box. Lance tore into it like an animal, and the wrapping fell to the floor.

Inside the box were more kitten plushies, but they were different. These were red and blue, like Keith and Lance’s kittens. “That’s my kitty, Red,” Keith poked the red cat’s face, “and the blue one is yours,” Keith told him, poking the blue cat’s face. Lance gushed, hugging Keith tighter.

“They’re so cute. Thank you Keith.”

“You’re welcome, McClain.”


End file.
